Jurassic Park: Special Delivery
by Ravensara
Summary: A young veterinary student's life is endangered when a mysterious animal is dumped by the driveway.
1. Chapter 1

1

"Gopher."

Making no effort to disguise the irritation he felt, the tall, lean young man grumbled, "Yes, Nadean?" into the telephone.

"Someone left you a gift out by the mailbox."

Twenty-three years old, blond with piercing blue eyes, Geoff McKenna winced and ran a long-fingered hand through his lank hair. "A gift? Really? Tell me how this is important."

His sister told him, "It might be a snake. It's inside a pillowcase with a rubber band around the opening. I think someone flung it out while they were driving by."

The young man's features darkened. "Is it alive?"

"So far."

"Have you opened the pillowcase?"

"I don't know if it's venomous."

"Good girl," he said. "I'll be there soon." He handed the receiver back to the older woman who occupied the kitchen in a yellow floral-print housecoat beneath a plain white apron with mushroom-colored ruffled trim. It was streaked with flour and the large, cluttered kitchen smelled like fresh-baked pretzels. "Thank you, Mrs. Merriman. I'm afraid I won't be staying for dinner."

The woman smiled understandingly beneath a layer of face powder, clumpy mascara, and coral-red lipstick that bled slightly into fine lines radiating out from her thin lips. She reminded him of one of his aunts. "Someone dropped off a critter for you?"

He nodded grimly. "Flung it out while driving by."

Her pruny hands flew to the sides of her face with concern. "Oh, you go home and take care of that poor angel right away! Get goin'! It needs you!"

He smiled and bent to kiss her cheek in an area not streaked with drying sourdough. In the parlor of the old Victorian mansion he encountered Selwyn Merriman and apologized. "If you could forgive me, Mr. Merriman, I have an emergency I must attend to."

The older man's fleshy face wrinkled like a shar-pei when he smiled. He made a gesture with his upraised left hand like he was screwing a light bulb into a socket, the leather-patched elbow of his corduroy jacket resting on the elegant mahogany arm of his tapestry upholstered seat. "I know you'll take care of it. Just remember to make a decision on what sort of practice you intend to have—livestock, house pets, exotics—and then we'll start reviewing locations."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," the younger man told him, pulling on a down-filled quilted nylon jacket.

Mrs. Merriman snagged him before he reached the front door and thrust a white paper sack at him. "Let them cool, Geoffery."

"Thank you, Mrs. Merriman," he replied, offering a final smile before exiting onto their wraparound porch. An older yellow Labrador resting in the weak light of a frosted sconce lifted its head at the sight of him and thumped its tail once before repositioning itself slightly with a whine of a sigh. "Goodnight, Knox," he said softly, clearing the concrete steps with a jump and hurrying to his CJ-5.


	2. Chapter 2

2

"What are those blue marks?" Geoff asked as he eyed the white fabric with suspicion.

"I think," Nadean told him, using kitchen tongs to manipulate the folds, "someone tried to write the word, 'help,' on it."

"_After_ the animal was inside?" They were in the kitchen of the two-story farmhouse they had grown up in. The pillowcase was atop a light colored wooden table with the soft patina of old age and long use. The ambient lighting was bright enough for most kitchen work, but not for examination purposes. The pale gold hue added to the old-fashioned country aura, although Geoff preferred the cold, sharp delineation offered by slightly blue-tinted bulbs. "It was done in a hurry."

"It's made some noises," the young blonde woman informed him. "Not like a snake."

He took the tongs from her. "Let's go see what it is."

The bathtub was upstairs. It was an out of place chunk of molded plastic ill-fitted into the space where an iron claw-foot tub had been, a poor caulk job surrounding it like a chalk outline. The lighting was worse, weak and a color somewhere between sepia and dark urine. The contents of the sack moved only a little during the transition. Geoff gingerly set the package in the center of the tub amidst a field of clay-colored adhesive flower silhouettes, his nose wrinkling at the lingering aromas of dust-coated guest soaps, talc, fragrant bath beads, iodine, female musk, and stagnant water. Nadean arrived after a few moments with a set of thick rubber gloves for herself and shorter, leather work gloves for her brother. She closed the door over and seized a large, threadbare towel from a chromed rack in case the creature required recapture after it was released. Geoff located toenail scissors and knelt beside the tub so he could reach over the side and sever the rubber band that held it closed.

The deed done, he withdrew slowly, holding his breath, watching the pillowcase. It didn't move. Nadean handed the tongs to him and he used them to pluck up a corner and lift it slowly with a gentle shaking movement, spilling the contents into the soft, dirty gold light.

His eyes narrowed as his brain sought to identify the thing. Nadean bent toward it, waiting for it to react to its freedom, eyes wide and flicking between its strange form and her older brother's face.

Roughly two feet high and nearly three long, the small animal resembled a plucked chicken upon first glance, and then, no, some sort of reptile. The smaller, weaker looking forelimbs suggested it was bipedal, and the long, well-developed hind legs suggested power for sprinting and possibly even jumping. The tail was long and slender and stiff-looking, with the only flexible part appearing to be the last few inches—which didn't really appear very flexible at all. The head was mainly snout and eyes and not so much in the way of a braincase. The jaw was elegant, tapering in a manner that made Geoff think of a caiman or infant crocodile. The neck was graceful, just thick enough to imply the strength required for striking speed. The upper body was small like a foal's, blooming into a fragile-looking ribcage over a thicker, heavier lower body. The hind legs terminated in three well-developed claw-tipped toes with one much smaller digit positioned so that it might have been considered a dew claw. The scales upon them resembled those found on barnyard fowl. The smaller forelimbs ended in startling-looking little four-digit claw-tipped hands and were large enough to make one think it could hold onto objects or prey almost as well as a primate.

"Lizard?" Nadean exhaled.

Geoff's brow creased and he leaned back from the tub. "Some kind of…bird-like reptile."

"What is it?"

"Go get my _Reptiles And Amphibians_ book," he instructed, moving from a squat back onto his knees so he could begin his examination.

The mouth was parted, revealing a vicious array of tiny, needle-like teeth. This was an animal designed for grabbing hold of and possibly ripping chunks free of flesh. Aside from Komodo dragons, Geoff did not immediately know of any other lizards that consumed meat in such a manner, and the only remotely bipedal lizard he was aware of was the South American one sometimes called the Jesus lizard because of its ability to zip across water.

It was difficult to see the tiny ribcage moving. He lowered a gloved finger toward the snout and upon contact the oversized eye eased open, then failed to close completely. He despaired for its life, for how could he help it without even knowing what it was?

He collided with his sister upon exiting the bathroom. "See if you can identify it," he instructed as he yanked open a hallway closet door. Inside were spare pillows, blankets, a vaporizer, lesser utilized hygiene and first-aid gear, surplus bottles of hair care products, bars of soap, and a large unopened bottle of Listerine. He quickly located the heating pad his mother used for back pain and a short extension cord. Many reptiles that appeared sluggish perked up with an application of heat.

"How do you use this book?" Nadean asked upon his return.

"By continent first. Try South America." He attached the extension cord to the heavy black plug, and then plugged it into a nearby wall-mounted light fixture that sported a socket in its base. Snatching the discarded towel his sister had dropped, he folded it around the pad, turned the unit on, and then gently lifted the creature to set it atop the cushion he had fashioned.

"Oh!" Nadean exclaimed worriedly, watching the animal's head loll loosely and its tail droop when it was lifted.

"I think it's too late," her brother admitted softly, positioning the creature just so. "Hand me a hand towel." He accepted the one she grabbed and set it over the creature like a bed sheet.

"Henceforth known as Leftovers," the girl announced.

Geoff cut his eyes her way. "Very funny."

She shrugged. "Trying to make light of a dire situation."

"That's nice. Give me the book." He flipped through stiff pages, pursuing any possible leads until the little beast uttered a hoarse sort of squeak, its eyes wide but unfocused, limbs straight and stiff, neck contorting backward as the tail went ramrod straight.

"Oh, _God!_" Nadean gasped, the wetness of oncoming tears in her voice.

Geoff winced. Animal deaths affected him at least as deeply as they did her, though he had learned to control his outward reaction to it. "Nadean…go get my bag."

She rose with a whimper and exited quickly, leaving him to watch helplessly as the strange animal convulsed and finally relaxed into death.


	3. Chapter 3

3

"Wednesday, December nineteenth, nineteen seventy-three, ten twenty-four pm," said Geoff softly but clearly into the microphone he'd duct taped so that it dangled near his head. "Geoffery Jason McKenna performing a necropsy on what appears to be a reptile of unknown identification featuring strong avian characteristics." He swallowed, hoping that sounded official enough. He stood in the garage at his father's old workbench, the immediate area cleaned and covered with plastic sheeting he had stapled into place. The portable lights he used were bright and clean, but kept the illumination corralled into small projections. He wore surgical gloves and a rubberized apron. It was cold in the garage, but he had already grown accustomed to seeing his breath bloom before him with every exhalation. A kerosene heater occupied the farthest corner to provide some warmth. He despised them for the odor they produced that he seemed strangely sensitive to. He wore white cotton long johns beneath denim jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled at his elbows. In order to remain alert through the night he had consumed two bologna and cheese sandwiches and had carried a couple of bottles of Coke into the garage.

Surrounded by aluminum frame lawn chairs supporting open books and his medical bag, he dissected the little corpse, jotting notes in a large sketchbook, taking photos with his Polaroid XS-70, and collecting samples he inserted into test tubes nestled within a bed of ice.

The message hastily scribbled on the fabric of the pillowcase bothered him. Nadean had succeeded in pinching the folds of cloth until the original hand had been revealed, spelling "help" on the makeshift bag in childlike block letters. All capitals. The blue ballpoint had not marked the uneven surface clearly, but the word was unmistakable. Why would someone write "help" on the bag, insert an animal into it, and then cruelly fling it like garbage from a passing vehicle? Had the culprit genuinely wished the animal to receive veterinary care or not? But Geoff was only a veterinary student, not yet a full-fledged DVM. So the person had to know he had returned home for winter break. Had he or she actually known he would be there to tend to the animal, or had it been a guess? And why not seek emergency services from an actual, practicing veterinarian? He squinted at the butterflied creature he'd set atop a sterilized bake sheet. Because it's been illegally imported, he thought. But that implied value, so why risk flinging it from a moving vehicle into a cold, uncertain night?

The creature's skin was pebbled around the orifices and the inside of its joints, scaled near the claws, and smoother elsewhere though textured similarly to alligator hide. Very tiny protuberances beneath the eyes, when plucked free, resembled the small feathers that decorated the cheeks of macaws.

Geoff notated everything on paper with a ballpoint pen and on cassette tape with his narration. He pored over some of the nicer books from his collection, finding aspects of the animal that somewhat resembled one known creature and then another one entirely. He drank his Cokes and intentionally refused to check the time, pausing only to urinate outside in the darkness so he wouldn't waste time returning to the house. When his observations were complete, he concluded the recording with the revelation that the animal had perished due to uricemia, or kidney failure. Exhausted, he had trudged back into the house after carefully cleaning up after himself and packing everything neatly away again. He wrapped himself in a towel and deposited his clothing in the dank-smelling wicker hamper before hopping into the shower. Donning a fresh towel, he padded to his old bedroom and flopped onto the bed he had outgrown as a teen, his feet dangling off the end of the mattress.


	4. Chapter 4

4

In his dream he'd continually insisted that Nadean keep searching his bedroom for a specific book that he was certain would help him identify the little dying lizard in the bathtub, but she kept returning empty handed, telling him that the old book was extinct.

His eyes opened and stared dully over the bulge of his pillow toward the small, crude, handmade bookcase beside his bed. Extinct, he thought. Why would she say that the book was extinct? It was missing. But in fact, it was not missing at all. He could see the spine protruding past those of its neighbors on the top shelf, categorized alphabetically by author, the white paper dust jacket dog-eared and even beginning to darken along the damaged edges. It happened to be a book about dinosaurs.

Curious, he pushed himself into a sitting position and huffed with surprise at the sensation of unpleasant stiffness in his lower neck and upper shoulders. He rolled his head and shrugged deeply, thrust his shoulders far forward and back, then rose to perform a few good stretches. It had been a very long time since he had slept nude in this house. He generally wore some type of shorts at least out of modesty. The air was dry and cool. He found it refreshingly brisk. Snatching the book from the shelf, he cast it upon the bed, and then rummaged through his suitcase for clean clothing.

The house was quiet. His mother was visiting family in Pennsylvania and his father had abandoned them years before. Nadean was sleeping in.

Geoff shaved, combed his hair, applied deodorant and Deep Woods aftershave. He went downstairs to raid the pantry for a can of ginger ale, and then returned to his bedroom to peruse the book he'd dreamt of.

On the cover was a simple and not likely accurate line drawing of a bipedal dinosaur, something with a serpentine head and long neck arched like a horse's, with chubby, stubby arms that reminded him of an infant, an eggplant-shaped body, plump drumstick legs and a very long, stiffly held tail. It very much resembled a drawing of the creature he had dissected during the night as rendered by a semi-talented fourth grader.

"_Dromaeosaurus," _he recalled. What he'd thought was a comprehensive guide as a teenager had proved to be a vast collection of dinosaur names paired with more simplistic drawings and very little data describing them. In fact, recent revelations had made some of the entries obsolete as animals thought to be from certain groupings turned out to in fact to be from others.

He lifted the cover and began to skim the contents, noting with surprise that roughly half of the pictures had been colored with pencils. "Nadean," he sighed with a slight grin.

Easily half the listed creatures were bipeds, although the drawings showed only slight variations between them. Many animals, he knew, were only identifiable from mostly incomplete fossil sets. There was still a lot of guesswork in the field even if it was educational in nature. He'd never really had much interest in dinosaurs himself, knowing them mostly as the stop-motion villains from a number of bad movies, until the year before when he'd been shanghaied into going on an actual dig.

His mother, being a very religious sort in a rather peculiar manner for she also believed in witchcraft and paranormal forces, did not believe in dinosaurs. When pressed by her small son for details on the creatures, she'd shown her ignorance by quickly changing the subject or ordering him to complete some chore that had become abruptly critical. She'd even once directed him to ask their priest about them, and the poor man had merely smiled benignly as if to imply it was up to individual families to decide where they would stand on the issue and not something he was qualified to discuss.

Geoff paged through the bipeds, looking at size estimates. He did not think that the creature was a dinosaur, but he hoped to find the closest apparent relative in the hope that the accompanying information might give him a clue as to what animals it may have evolved into.

Nadean poked her uncombed head around the doorframe playfully. "Gopher."

"Yellow."

"Know what it is, yet?"

He shook his head and held the open book up for her.

"I colored them based on modern animal patterns."

"So I noticed. I actually recognized the triggerfish and clownfish, ruby-throated hummingbird-"

"I thought I'd start with more primitive animals for the earlier dinosaurs, then work my way up."

He nodded. "Interesting."

"Was the book valuable?"

"Parts of it are obsolete," he admitted. "But as to historic value-"

She shrugged. "I'll be a famous artist some day and then the book will be worth a fortune."

"I see."

"Breakfast?"

"Please," he said, and then glanced at the wind-up clock that sat atop the bookcase. "Lunch is more like it."

"God, I love sleeping late!" she gushed, plunging her hands through her unkempt hair. "So, scrambled eggs or pizza?"

"Both?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Well that sounds novel!"

He shook his head in amusement as she departed happily down the hall.

She hadn't been gone long when Geoff heard the distinctive sound of a vehicle making its way along the long, dirt driveway. It was moving too quickly for a stranger and in fact sounded like it had gone around the house to the rear. He continued his research. A moment later he heard a quick, loud knock, and then Nadean called his name just before he heard her unlatch the front door.

Geoff flipped the open book down atop the bedspread and made his way to the hall, listening intently.

"Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes!"

"Heh," Nadean replied.

"Ain't got no hug for your long-lost cousin?"

"We're not related."

Geoff knew the voice and inwardly cringed, hesitating near the top of the stairs.

"I brought goodies."

He heard paper crinkle.

"Doughnuts? It's lunch time," she said.

"Geoff here?"

"You heard me call him."

"So I did."

The tall blond reluctantly descended into view.

"Gopher!" The other man teased.

"Ha, ha," Geoff responded. "What trouble are you in this time?"

"Doughnut?" he offered.

Geoff stepped forward and reached into the bag, withdrawing something oozing sweetened cream and shedding rainbow colored sprinkles. He grabbed the opening for a better look within. He wasn't overly fond of filled doughnuts.

"I didn't know what you liked," the newcomer mentioned.

"Maybe if you weren't always on the run," McKenna commented, taking a large bite of a peanut-butter filled chocolate-iced and finding it palatable.

"Didja get my present?"

Geoff nearly choked on the dough in his mouth. He spat the wad into his hand, and then looked as miserable as a cat that had just leaped by accident into a puddle. Nadean had departed to retrieve a beverage for him. Glancing about angrily, he spiked the wet mess into one of his mother's ashtrays. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Debatable."

Wiping his palm with a tissue from a convenient dispenser near the ashtray, he neared the other man threateningly. "How could you treat an animal that way? How could you do that knowing who I am?"

The young man with the prematurely greying hair lifted one open palm and the doughnut bag between them. "Is it okay?"

"She died!"

"It was a she?"

"I'd know, wouldn't I?"

"Calm down," the visitor said, accepting the glass of juice Nadean had brought and pushing it at Geoff. "Have some wine."

"It's cranberry juice!" blurted the girl.

The guy sniffed it. "Really? Pretty color. Drink it," he insisted, thrusting it Geoff's way. "Do you know what it, _she_ is?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Well now that surprises me," the guy said, handing the bag of doughnuts to Nadean. "You didn't plant it in the backyard like a dead dog, didja?"

McKenna swallowed and swished the remaining claret colored juice in the little jam jar glass decorated with two-tone popular cartoon characters. "Of course not. I performed a necropsy."

The silver-haired guy looked from brother to sister, then back again. "Oh, you're sick."

"What?"

"You'd admit that in front of her?"

"It was an autopsy!" Geoff clarified hotly.

"Oh. You shoulda just said so. And, what? You think somebody cacked her?"

Nadean tried not to smile. She knew her brother's old school chum was trouble, but always found him greatly amusing.

Geoff rolled his eyes. "She had kidney stones."

"No kiddin'? Eh?"

"Probably from a poor diet."

The guy shrugged. "Hell, I didn't know what to feed her. She seemed to like hot dogs, though."

Geoff drained his juice to prevent an argument. Handing the glass to Nadean, he said, "What was it and where did you get it from?"

"I'm not the maid!" Nadean sniped, setting the empty glass down roughly behind him.

He watched her retreat to the kitchen and turned to lift the glass before it left a ring on his mother's end table. He noticed the balled-up tissue and wad of half-chewed dough in the ashtray and collected everything with a sigh.

The guy asked, "You wanna go somewhere? Get some lunch?"

"Let's," the blond agreed, heading for the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

5

Brit Silver was a troublemaker from way back. The child of a broken, though wealthy home, his parents had used him as a pawn in their psychological battles with each other, indulging his every desire in a bid to make him choose the "love" of one over the other until they'd finally realized he had turned the tables on them both at an early age and been playing them against each other. His father eventually left the country to settle down with a gorgeous olive-skinned beauty in Italy, and the day Brit turned eighteen his fed-up mother threw him out of the house and her will. A manipulative con artist, he'd been held back a year in school on two separate occasions due to bad behavior and not a lack of intelligence, so that he graduated high school at the age of twenty…although he never showed up to collect his diploma. His brilliant, though misguided nature had intrigued the inquisitive young McKenna, himself a bit of a loner due to his advanced intellectual and emotional maturity. Teamed up, the pair managed to just barely elude serious trouble on a number of occasions, nearly always thanks to Geoff's quick thinking and honest reputation.

They occupied a booth upholstered in red vinyl inside of a dimly lit strip mall Italian-themed restaurant. Geoff thanked the waitress when she dropped off the pizza and served each of them their first slice. He unfolded his paper napkin and set it across his lap while Brit lifted his steaming hot slice and bit off the narrow point, nearly knocking over his Mountain Dew in his haste to lessen the damage to his tongue and upper palate.

"Of course you realize it's very hard to believe," Geoff admitted calmly as he dusted his slice with grated Romano cheese, red pepper flakes, garlic powder and black pepper. He lifted his butter knife and fork, inspecting the cheap flatware for food detritus or water spots before neatly severing the first bite of his slice free and spearing it with his fork.

"You think I care? I don't never care 'bout what anybody_ believes_ about things. I deal in facts, man. That and cold, hard cash."

McKenna blew on his tiny triangle of pizza and twirled the fork to wind the strings of mozzarella onto it. His old friend had filled him in on some of the details on the ride over. "First of all, how did they find you?"

"Oh, I dunno," the guy said, taking another bite followed by another soothing gulp, a string of cheese bisecting his stubbled chin. "Maybe from someone from when I was in jail."

McKenna's eyes closed. It had been a matter of time before Brit had gotten caught at something. "I see. So a total bunch of strangers find some random kid in prison and decide he'd be the perfect candidate to send on a mission—a very expensive mission—to a remote island somewhere in the middle of the Pacific-"

"I wasn't a prisoner," Brit interrupted, finally wiping at his mouth with a paper napkin. "I was a plant. They wanted me to get close to this guy so I could get some information out of him."

Geoff chewed thoughtfully. Brit told effective lies because he was so good at mixing just the right amount of truth into them. It made it difficult to know when he was making stuff up. "Who is this _they_?"

"Well, it's not the same they. This time it was a different they, but they knew what I had done, so clearly someone had made contact with someone else about me."

And this sort of evasive conversation meant no better details would be gained by pressing matters further. Geoff spread the fingers of his left hand and shook them above the table as though surrendering to Brit's command to halt. "Fine. Somehow it's decided that you will be sent on a mission to a remote island-"

"Certified scuba diver," the other guy revealed. "They had me deliver spare air tanks along a preplanned underwater route so I could follow them later without having to bring the boat in close to shore."

"You were on a diving vacation."

"For all intents and purposes, yes," he agreed, picking loose olive slices from his paper plate and folding them into what was left of his slice. "The area's a diving hot spot. Alleged shipwrecks, pirate loot and stuff."

"Of course." Geoff cleared his throat and took soda through his straw. "So you swam to this island and saw what exactly?"

"Small place," he said while chewing. "Thick jungle. You remember the Amazon? That was like a freakin' pasture compared to this place. They told me to open up these sealed packages in small clearings a few feet away from the underbrush. Packages were dead cats." Brit reached for his drink and a second slice. "Stuff was soaked in vodka. Told me to take a walk, but be suspicious of everything and don't get caught."

"By whom?"

The second slice was not as hot as the first had been. Brit Silver folded it and took large bites. "I dunno." He gulped. "The place wasn't occupied—so they said—but there might be field teams doing research and stuff. Scientists maybe, or caretakers." He wiped at his greasy lower face. "'cause they were using these islands to see how these cloned animals would react, y'know, if they could survive in modern times."

McKenna had issues with the whole DNA extracted from a mosquito trapped in amber thing. The insect's biological functions would have had to have ceased almost immediately after ingestion in order to preserve the blood it had extracted intact. Odds were that most samples obtained would have undergone damaging processing within the insects' guts. Had someone tried to fill in gaps and patch over damaged sequences with that of a modern relative? Either way, it was impossible that anything successfully cloned would turn out to be an exact duplicate of any once-living creature. The clones would be hybrids at best, distorting any data already extrapolated through study of the fossil record. "Vodka makes sense," he allowed, consuming his crust. "Odorless, and the animal would likely incapacitate itself before actually overdosing." He had captured flocks of chickens this way, soaking their feed in alcohol, and then collecting the stupefied birds with ease.

"See," said Brit, jabbing at him with the point of a fresh pizza slice. "I knew you'd know this stuff."

The waitress returned to check on their progress. Brit placed an order for a basket of French fries.

"I've kinda been eatin' what I can when I can," he confessed, suggesting he'd been on the run for a while.

Geoff plucked an errant olive slice from a piece of pizza. They had ordered the pie with half Brit's choice of toppings and half McKenna's. "So it's a carrion-eater. You grabbed one and then what?"

"Well, approaching the place was the hard part. Getting off the island was easy. Once I bagged one I sent up a flare and they just raced the boat in to get me."

"And at some point things went wrong."

"There were boat patrols. We'd timed it so they should have been on the far side of the island, but I guess somethin' tipped 'em off, and as soon as they saw us they gave chase. They ordered us to stop. We were in a thirty-three foot, three-tiered Chris Craft and they had a Crystaliner runabout. They boarded to search us, though it wasn't likely they knew what we had or if we had even taken anything. I tied off the sack I had the little bastard in so it hung off the side of the bow. They didn't find anything, so they let us go. Told us the island was quarantined—that they were studying animals that carried leprosy. We told them we never saw any animals 'cept a few birds. They asked us all about the birds. We asked them if it was safe to eat fish caught near the island and they said they didn't know, that we should dump any we'd caught just to be sure. It was a regular horse pucky buffet," he said, grabbing his last slice and staring at it as it lay harmlessly on his grease-stained paper plate. "We had some, they had some, we smiled at each other and nobody believed a word anyone said."

"What did they look like?" Geoff asked, using his hands to eat now that the pizza was manageable.

"Too casual, if you know what I mean. Like feds undercover—you can still tell. Frayed shorts, faded shirts, expensive shades, perfect hair. They didn't dress like security, but you could tell they were. Quality guys, at that. Best Hammond can afford."

"Best what?"

"John Hammond? Gazillionaire? Plastics and stuff? He's in the news now and then—you shoulda heard of him."

Geoff shook his head.

"Yeah-oh, thanks, Hon," he told the waitress as she dropped the fries off and promised to return with ketchup. "It's all his baby. Soon as they said they could clone somethin', this guy starts thinkin'_ big_."

"But cloned animals have a notoriously short lifespan," Geoff interjected.

"He's rich. What does he care? So it seems this guy is using these islands to try and figure out what he has to do to make them livable for when he makes the bigger, more expensive dinos-"

"Waitaminute. What?"

Brit smiled grimly. "Rumor is he's not stopping with little piddly rat-sized things that eat scraps. He's supposedly workin' on bigger things like T. rex and Stegosaurus and stuff."

"This is really too hard to believe," McKenna reiterated.

"Like I said, I don't care what you believe. What do you think it was you were cuttin' on last night? Plucked chicken?" He lifted a crinkle-cut fry and dropped it. "Hot." The waitress deposited a squeeze bottle filled with ketchup between them without speaking a word or even slowing her stride. "Doesn't matter. So I'm stealin' this thing for some rival zillionaire and his corporation I guess so they can learn trade secrets or somethin'."

"You got caught."

"Me? Nah. I guess they went back and found my tracks on the shore, found a few more dazed little dinosaurs and decided they wasn't through with us yet." He squeezed copious squiggles of ketchup over the fries and bit into one, reaching swiftly for his drink again. "Serve stuff hot here, huh? Want one?"

"No, thank you."

"This time I'd transferred to another boat and the guys who'd taken me to the island had remained in the area, pretendin' to fish. Maybe they really were fishin'—doesn't matter. I'm on my way, high-tailin' it back to the mainland. We got a good start on 'em, 'cept we head back into port and there's like harbor patrol or water cops or somethin' all over the place. Even if you manage to dock, they're haltin' everybody, askin' questions and stuff, probably got my description. So I ask for a mesh bag, a snorkel, a small cooler, and the dinghy. I leave 'em, promise to hook up later. I got a number memorized.

"So I drift off a ways while they pull right on into the mess, eatin' a sandwich outta the cooler. When I'm done I anchor out of the way of traffic, grab a little sun. Then I make my way over to a likely area and drop overboard with the snorkel, pretendin' to be lookin' for pearls or treasure or trash or whatever-"

Geoff interrupted, "But the animal-"

"Still in the bag with a T-shirt draped over it."

"Hot and suffocating."

Brit barely acknowledged the remark. He shoved three fries in his mouth and chased them with soda. "Anyhow, I kill some time and nobody's payin' me mind like I figured and I'm watchin' the sailboats on this one dock, tryin' to figure out which one to take-"

Geoff nodded, balling up his napkin and setting it on the empty aluminum pizza platter. "You stole a boat. I suppose they didn't care who left—just who was coming in."

"Right. So I head south 'cause no one's expectin' that-"

"South?"

"Yeah. Americano, he heads north, right? So I head south outta Costa Rica knowin' I gotta ditch the boat before it's reported stolen."

"Y'know, I don't need to hear every detail of your escape." The waitress returned to top off their beverages from red plastic pitchers that rattled with ice. "So you made it back here eventually, and why is this animal at my place?"

Brit pretended to sulk. "You should let me tell the rest of it sometime. Thought it was all pretty clever myself."

"As usual. You arrived in the States and?"

"Well, that's the thing, see? I knew how much I was getting' from the bozos who hired me, but I thought maybe our…common benefactor might be willin' to offer a little more."

McKenna stiffened. Not too long ago, while on a paleontological dig in Montana, a previously unknown extinct mammal had been discovered. About the size of a collie, possessing rear hooves and front paws, the scientist who'd discovered it had named it _uniceras_ to describe the single, long, slightly curved horn it had protruding from the center of its skull. Because it resembled historical descriptions of a rather specific mythological creature, interested parties began popping up like fleas in a kennel, each attempting to procure the fossilized skeleton or, at least, its horn. McKenna had ultimately ended up with it and traded it to an anonymous collector of rare artifacts for a tidy sum of banded bricks of cash. Since then, employees of the mysterious collector had encountered him again when he'd been on the run from an enraged Amazonian tribe on the border of extinction. Brit had been working for them all along, seeking proof that the legendary tribe even existed, and Geoff had been paid off yet again for his involvement, reluctant though he had been. He remained suspicious of them and preferred to avoid any future dealings with them. Of course it would be his old on again off again pal Brit Silver who'd bring him to their attention again. "Not knowing who these people are, do you really think you should be playing games with them?"

"To the guys who hired me, I'm just a small potatoes crook willin' to pick up the odd job. To _them_, I'm a proven asset. They gave me an address in Jersey. I told them I should be there in a couple of days."

"But your captive got sick."

"I didn't know where else to go."

McKenna's eyes closed and he slumped in his seat. "Why didn't you go up to the house?"

"They picked up my trail. I had to throw it out as I rode by so they wouldn't know where it went."

"They…the original guys you were working for?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I think so."

"Did they follow you this morning?"

"I went to an airport. Dropped off the car, laid low in a hotel room last night. Picked up a new rental car this morning."

Geoff lifted his head. "You're _sure_ nobody followed you?"

"Far as I know."


	6. Chapter 6

6

When they returned to the farmhouse, Nadean was not there. She had not left a note. Geoff's Jeep was still parked near the garage beside their mother's station wagon. Nadean had used it to drive her to the train station so she could spend the holidays with her sisters, leaving her daughter the Mercury Colony Park to drive while she was away.

The property was fairly large. After Geoff's father had left, his mother had leased some of the acreage to neighboring farmers and outright sold off a few parcels. Taking the Jeep, the pair toured the grounds, searching the old potato shed, the windmill, the stables that had long ago been converted to storage, the north and south woods and the pond. They returned to the house to phone nearby neighbors and friends of the girl. Nobody knew anything. No one had seen her.

"But the lizard's still here, right?"

Geoff went into the garage and lifted the lid on the old chest freezer. It wasn't uncommon for friends and neighbors to present them with gifts of surplus game and fish, so the unit remained at least half full most of the time. He withdrew a long package cartoonishly plump with aluminum foil that was shaped like a huge animal cracker version of the creature he had necropsied.

"Oh, thank God!"

"Really, Sterling?" Geoff asked incredulously. "Someone might have taken my sister hostage and all you care about is an extinct chicken?"

"Give it to me."

Geoff maintained his grip on it. "It stays here until Nadean turns up. I have to know she's all right."

"Maybe she ran off with her boyfriend or somethin'."

"She would have left a note." Geoff replaced the corpse in the freezer.

"So what do we do now?"

"Wait for her to return."

"What if she's spending the night somewhere?"

"She would have left a note!"

"So let's search the house again. Maybe it blew off something when we walked by or somethin'."

McKenna sighed. "C'mon, then." He lead the way back inside and started looking for a clue that might explain his sister's absence.

It wasn't like Nadean to hide notes or play games with him. He checked the usual places—refrigerator, kitchen counter, kitchen table, near the phone….

"Maybe she put it in the mailbox," suggested Brit.

"What kind of stupid idea is that?"

The guy shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe something came up, she remembered at the last moment, jammed something in there."

There was nothing else to do but kill time. "Look upstairs again, will you?" Geoff asked, heading for the front door.

On the front porch he noticed a little more dirt than usual. It was more noticeable on the steps. Brit had pulled around to the rear of the house, so that was the door they had used upon their return from lunch. Now he saw that one of his mother's concrete flower pots had fallen from a step and broken. The soil was loose enough and the break clean enough to suggest the damage was fresh. Heart beating faster, he turned for another look at the house. Nothing else seemed untoward. Had it been locked when he'd exited? No. He searched the ground beyond the steps. It was a mixture of hard-packed dirt, marble and granite chips, a few broken oyster shells, a few clumps of weeds. His eyes detected cavities recently vacated by stones. Had someone kicked them loose? Had there been a struggle? He stood straight and gazed along the driveway. Then he heard an engine start.

Geoff jogged toward a corner of the house in time to see his Jeep spray dirt and gravel as Brit floored it and veered around him. He watched his vehicle race toward the roadway. It was forced to brake hard to avoid colliding with a passing produce truck, and then Brit "Sterling" Silver turned left and sped away.


	7. Chapter 7

7

Geoff had the phone receiver in his left hand as he dialed with his right. He paused, thinking he'd heard something. He lifted the receiver to his ear and tried, "Hello?"

"Who are you calling, Geoffery McKenna?"

The voice was unfamiliar. Someone had called and he'd lifted the receiver before the phone had even rung. "Who is this?"

"Don't call the police."

His breath caught, and before he could say anything, he heard his sister's voice. "I'm okay, Geoff."

"Nadean?"

The stranger returned on the line. "You will bring the animal with you so we can make a trade."

"I don't have it."

He heard a female grunt in the background, and the voice growled, "Don't lie to us!"

"I'm not! I…I don't know where it is." Should he tell them Brit had stolen it, or keep his friend out of it? But, what kind of friend steals your car and leaves your sister's well-being in jeopardy?

"You have thirty minutes to show up at-"

"I need more time!"

"An hour. We'll call you."

The line went dead.


	8. Chapter 8

8

An hour later the phone rang. "Mr. McKenna, bring the animal and meet us at-"

"I don't have it, but I should soon. Or at least I might be able to tell you where to find it," he said quickly.

He heard breathing on the other end of the line. "We're watching you."

"Is Nadean okay?"

"An hour, McKenna." The line went dead.

He had been panicking, pacing, trying to find things he could conceal on himself as weapons, then discarding them in the fear he'd be frisked. He was having trouble thinking straight. He was worried sick over his sister's fate and what his mother would do when she found out what had happened. Then he despised her for being so callous she could leave her own children during the Christmas holiday. He had dressed himself in clothing he thought was comfortable enough to fight in if it should come to it, fretted over whether hiking boots or sneakers were the better footwear. He suspected he would never even see the abductors—just find Nadean bound like a rodeo calf with a coarse sack over her head, a hidden sniper waiting to take them both out.

The phone rang, He answered breathlessly.

"We found your Jeep, Mr. McKenna," the voice said, and Geoff exhaled noisily with relief.

"Oh, that's great! When can I get it?"

"You'll have to come in and get a voucher to claim it."

"Okay. I'll be there soon. Did anyone find a…an aluminum-wrapped parcel in it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"A package? Like, um, well I'm a veterinary student-"

"I know you, Geoff," the caller told him. "This is Shaun Merriman."

"Oh! Shaun. Hey, Shaun."

"Hey, Geoff. Nothing's been touched. You come down here and we'll see about getting your Jeep back to ya immediately."

"Oh, thank you. It wasn't damaged or anything?"

"Well…I'm afraid our suspect tried to make a run for it."

"Ah," Geoff said.

"And he got hit by a Volkswagen Bus."

"A bus? He got hit by a bus?"

"One of those little rectangular van-things all the hippies drive," Shaun clarified.

"Oh."

"It's drivable, but a little messed up. You'll have to get some bodywork done on it."

"Okay. I'll be right there."

"You are pressing charges still, yes?"

"Oh, yeah," he answered.

"Okay, Geoff. See you soon." Officer Merriman hung up.


	9. Chapter 9

9

Geoff didn't remember the ride over. He was overwhelmed with worry that something had happened to the little dinosaur. The next thing he knew he had parked near the Kingston Police Department's headquarters and was quaking with adrenaline. He checked his watch, realized he hadn't actually memorized the time and looked at it again. The kidnappers would be calling again soon. He had to get home to answer that call!

He hurried through the double doors and approached a counter. "I'm Geoffery Jason McKenna. I'm here to see Officer Merriman."

The balding man behind the counter eyed him strangely. "Are you all right, son?"

"Uh, yes. I'm fine, sir. Officer. I'm…okay."

"Deep breath," the man told him, straightening in his elevated chair and lifting a hand to emphasize the movement. Geoff helplessly mimicked him. "All right then. Slower this time. How can I help you?"

By the time Shaun arrived to gesture for him to follow him through a heavy wooden door with a small wire-reinforced window set near the lock, he was clammy with perspiration. "Hey, Geoff. Heard you were at the folk's place the other night."

"Yes. For dinner. Had to leave, though. Something came up."

"At least it wasn't mom's cooking," the young police officer joked, smiling through a mask of freckles. "This way." He escorted him through another doorway. "So, you know the guy who took your vehicle?"

"Yeah," he sighed, smiling bravely. "Always was a bit of a troublemaker."

"I'll say. He has a handful of outstanding warrants."

"Oh," McKenna said, unsurprised.

"Is he related to you?"

"No. Did he say he was?"

"He hasn't said anything to us at all. Just made a phone call and has been sittin' ugly ever since." Shaun grinned at his own joke. "You need some coffee or a soda or anything?"

"I'm good."

"You seem…a little off."

"Just got betrayed by someone I thought was my friend," he replied.

"Uh-huh. Where was he heading, do you know?"

"Oh, I have no idea."

"But when you called, you told us what road you thought he might be on. Didn't you tell us he was heading for New Jersey?"

"Right. Right. He said that. New Jersey. But I don't know where, exactly."

Officer Merriman stopped before another door. "So who is this guy, Geoff? Just someone visiting for the holidays?"

"Old school friend." He brightened suddenly. "You'd know him. _Sterling_ Silver?"

"Oh, God. I thought the name sounded familiar. Looks a lot different than he did then. I didn't really know him of course…mostly by reputation."

"You can't forget a good nickname like that."

Shaun chuckled. "Yeah. What were his parents thinking? _Brit_ Silver?"

They passed through the doorway into a small area dominated by a large wall with a small counter set in it at the bottom edge of a large window. A slender man in uniform looked up at them expectantly, and Shaun took over, trying to help Geoff through the process of recovering his damaged vehicle. McKenna was asked for his ID. The other man took it to make a photocopy of it.

"Any idea why he'd take your Jeep?"

Geoff was licking his dry lips, concerned with the time. He told Shaun, "I dunno. Just for the thrill of it?"

"Had the two of you argued? Maybe just disagreed over something?"

"No," the veterinary student replied, wondering if he should have worked up some kind of a cover story.

Merriman rested a hand on his left upper arm. "Are you coming down with something?"

"No. I…maybe. I don't know."

He moved a little closer and turned away from the open window. "You seem extremely uptight. I think we should talk."

He knew the other man had seen the turmoil in his eyes.

"You keep looking at your watch."

"It'll have to be quick. Is there someplace private we could go?"


	10. Chapter 10

10

An older, heavyset man occupied a small shack by the main gate of the impound yard. A light was on inside and he was easily seen seated before a small, portable, black and white television, a large tin cup in his hands. Geoff located a buzzer-type button and depressed it, causing the man in the shack to gaze his way abruptly. He took a last healthy drink from the cup, fumbled at his belt, then exited with a stiff gait that indicated an old injury or current pain. "I help ya?" he asked.

"I'm here to pick up a vehicle that was brought in."

"Papers?"

Geoff rolled them loosely to push through the chain link.

The guard checked them over, paying extra heed to where the make and model were indicated. "Jeep. Uh-huh. I remember that. Hold on." He unlocked the gate and it rattled on its track as he slid it aside. "You got ID?"

Nodding, Geoff forfeited it again and followed the guard to the door of his shack.

"You can enter."

"Thank you." He remained standing while the other dropped himself into a heavy desk chair on wheels with duct tape patches on the seat. The interior of the shed was warmed by a portable space heater and featured unfinished particle board walls, a shelf-like desk area, factory stickers still on the windows, and a coffee pot warming on a small hot plate.

"Weren't in it when it got banged up?" the man asked, his voice low and a little gravelly.

"It was stolen from me."

The guard finished copying down information from his license, and then hefted a thick radio. "Walsh? You headin' in, yet?"

After a moment another voice replied, "Could be."

"Got a young man here wants his Jeep back."

"Be there."

The guard did not offer coffee. He held the license out for Geoff to take along with a pastel-colored carbon he guessed served as some sort of receipt. The younger man checked his watch and winced. Things were progressing far too slowly. He'd had no idea he wouldn't be able to walk right into police headquarters, flash a big smile, then depart with his own property.

He heard a yip and turned to see a uniformed man holding a leash making his way to the shed. A veterinary student, McKenna had no fear of dogs. He was even confident he could easily fend off the most vicious dog attack if need be, but something about the sight of the silver-grey shepherd made him distinctly uneasy.

"That's ol' Samson," the man in the shed informed him. "Ain't scared of dogs, are ya?"

"No," he responded, watching the thickly built animal pull his handler as he followed the scent trail of a stranger.

The guard rose and stepped outside. The German shepherd whined and rose upon his hind legs repeatedly, tail low and wagging, barking with excitement, though not in a particularly aggressive manner. It was a beautiful dog, the winter coat lush and thick, but with a slightly odd appearance as though his skin was a size or two too big for his body. Samson didn't strain at the leash, but maintained constant movement and whining as he was transferred to the custody of the older guard. The younger man, no longer encumbered, gestured Geoff's way.

McKenna stepped out into cooler air and the dog began to tug and lunge in earnest, his barks deeper in timbre and closer together, ears alternately forward or back without ever flattening completely against the back of his massive skull. Aware he was specially trained, the blond man refrained from attempting to acquaint himself and followed the younger man in uniform instead.

"Hey—you're Geoff McKenna."

"Yep," sighed Geoff.

"Tim Kochner. I 'member you. You're here for the banged-up Jeep, just came in?"

"I think so."

"You probably don't remember me," the other guy continued, walking briskly through the lot. "We picked watermelons for Ms. Murphy few summers back."

"Oh, sure." He vaguely recalled the other man's features on a younger face.

"You goin' to college?"

"Veterinary school."

"Oh, uh-huh, uh-huh. I remember now. You used to go to people's farms and do things for their animals. I remember now."

"Uh-huh," said Geoff, catching sight of what he thought was his CJ-5.

"You in it?" Kochner asked.

"I was not," he answered, not liking the sight of the passenger side.

"What happened?"

McKenna found the query inappropriate, but answered anyway, "Somebody stole it from me."

"Gunpoint?"

"No. From behind the house." He found that the passenger door was loose and swung open all too easily. There was no package inside. "Where do I go to claim the contents?"

"Where do what?"

"Something's missing," he clarified. "How do I get it back?"

Kochner tried to peer beyond him as though he'd be able to figure out what McKenna was looking for. "What was it?"

"A package wrapped in aluminum foil."

"Was it food or somethin'?"

"How do I get it back?"

The other man's gaze shifted to the side. "Like a chicken?"

"Yes! Like a chicken! Do you know where it is?"

Kochner turned away, laughing. "Well why on earth would you want_ that_ back?"

"Because I'm a veterinary student and it was a project I was working on! I dissected it! I need it!"

"Oh," said the other, sobering up. "Didn't have no formaldehyde or anything on it, did it?"

"No! Why?"

"Ah, well, old Samson went over your Jeep here after it came in and he musta found it. Had hold of it before I could stop him-"

"Where is it?" Geoff asked, a quaver in his voice.

"Well, by the time I got to it, weren't much left."

Looking skyward, McKenna exhaled a soft syllable of despair.

"I'm sorry, but, can't you just get another chicken?"

Mind racing, breathing fast, his eyes roved the bland, grey winter sky and suddenly brightened with hope. "Yes! Yes! I think I can! Thank you!" He hurried back toward the gate.

"Ain't you gonna take your Jeep?" the perplexed Kochner called after him.


	11. Chapter 11

11

The phone was ringing when he burst through the door. He hesitated when it stopped, mere feet from it, panting. According to his watch he still had two minutes, but who knew if the people who'd taken his sister set their watches using the U.S. Naval Observatory Master Clock as he did.

Silence in an empty house is almost a sound in itself, with its own particular sensation. Geoff's heart beat against his chest while he remained still, listening to gusts of wind outside, hearing a soft _pop_ from somewhere inside the house as something settled more securely into place or perhaps buckled from long decay. Trying to calm his breathing, he turned away and the phone rang again, loud and nerve-jangling in its insistence.

"Hello?" he said quickly after snatching up the receiver.

"On the toilet?"

"No. Just got back."

"From where?"

He blurted, "Silver stole my Jeep and crashed it."

There was a pause. "Do you have the animal?"

"I can get it."

"Do you think we're playing games?" The stranger asked, hostility in his tone.

He wanted to ask if they worked for John Hammond or the person who'd hired Brit. "No, sir," he replied, still sounding winded.

"We're watching you."

"Yes, sir."

"We're running out of patience, Geoff. Meet us in ten minutes-"

"I need an hour. Sir."

Silence on the other end of the line.

"Sir?"

"You don't seem to comprehend how this works."

"I'm sorry, I've never done anything like this before." He scratched his head, thinking fast. "I'm expecting a phone call from my mother. She doesn't know. But if I'm not here to catch the call she'll panic, have the neighbors come over, call the police."

He heard a sound like lips smacking. "No police, Geoff!"

"Right. So I need at least an hour-"

"Call her. Let her know everything's okay."

"That would make her suspicious."

"Do you want to see your sister again?"

"Please," Geoff said quietly. "Please don't hurt her. I won't tell anyone. Nobody ever needs to know."

"I have someone right there now watching you. Do you understand me? Maybe we drop Nadean here off and she finds _you_ under the tree, got it?"

His breath caught in his throat. "Please, sir-"

"Don't mess with us, Geoffery."

"No, sir. Never. I swear it."

The phone was slammed into its cradle. McKenna winced as he hung up. He knew the caller was lying about someone watching him. They would have known he hadn't been home to catch their call. He suspected that meant whomever he was dealing with was only one guy or two at the most—they surely didn't have manpower to spare. In the kitchen was a phone book. He quickly located it and flipped through the white pages, seeking a particular last name.


	12. Chapter 12

12

The woman who opened the door wore a V-neck red cardigan sweater over bare skin. The top button was undone. Her slacks were snug and white, flaring at the ankles. She drew deeply on her cigarette, puckering bright red lips set in a powdered face while allowing her large sleepy-lidded eyes to roam him from head to crotch and back again. She unplugged the Benson & Hedges and let the foul-scented pale smoke stream from her lips. "Why, hello, Geoff."

He despised her. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Fontaine. I'm kind of in a hurry. Where's your freezer?"

Her tongue protruded to stroke the end of her right upper eye tooth while she leaned against the doorframe. "Oh, you can't stay?"

"No, ma'am. I have a slight emergency I need to get back to as soon as possible."

She reached with her free hand to fiddle with the neck of his jacket as though he required a few finishing touches before he was completely presentable. The smoke finally got to him and he failed to stifle two quick coughs.

"Sorry."

"Come in, come in," she told him, turning away to saunter across plush white shag carpet.

He stamped his feet before entering, always put off by the peculiar décor. The Fontaines preferred prominent angles, form over practicality, startling textures and color combinations mixed with bright and shiny metals. "Is, is Aurora here?"

"_Aurora!"_ the woman bleated melodically, turning to smile at her houseguest to gauge his reaction.

They heard fumbling upstairs.

"I made cookies," the woman purred, bending to lift a tray from a shield-shaped coffee table. "They're loaded with Kahlua." She bit into one.

"Hurry," he reminded her, smiling tightly.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No, thank you. I just need to pick up-"

"_Geoff!"_ was shrieked from the top of the stairs. "Oh, Mother! Why didn't you tell me Geoff was here?"

"I just did," the woman replied with a shrug Geoff's way.

"Oh!" The tall, gangly teen fiddled blindly with her hair and smoothed a hand across her checkered dress before descending majestically as though she'd practiced while balancing books atop her head. "Greetings, Geoffery."

"Hey, Aurora," he said, doubly uncomfortable.

"Have you come to see me?"

"I have," he admitted, aware Mrs. Fontaine had departed for the den.

"Really?" Aurora was tall for her age and lean with long, lank, golden blonde hair tied back loosely with a green velvet bow. She was not unattractive and all evidence supported the notion she would likely mature into a stunning woman like her mother, but she was only fifteen and awkward as a colt.

"Do you still raise Ayam Cemanis?" he asked.

"Of course. Do you want to see them? I also have-"

"Your mother said you might have a couple awaiting necropsies?"

Her pale brows drew together. "Do you need them?"

He almost told her just one, but nodded instead. "Yes. Please. You have a pair of them?"

She led him through the kitchen toward the back door.


	13. Chapter 13

13

"This ends now," the voice said when McKenna answered the phone.

"Can I speak to my sister?"

"No. You have ten minutes to meet us in the north lot of the mall-"

"No," Geoff told him.

"_No?"_

"I'm too well known around here. I can't do this someplace with a lot of people around."

"But-"

"I know it seems like the safest idea, but believe me, someone might see me and blunder right into the middle of it to say hi and Merry Christmas and stuff."

He heard a sigh. "You really don't have the leverage to be makin' up your own rules here."

"Meet me in the back woods of the old Kaman property in…twelve minutes," he said, consulting his watch as he tied off a thread. "Nadean can tell you where it is. Nobody lives there. It's an old pig farm. No one even lives _around_ there," he continued. "There are still animals out there, but…" he consulted his Timex again. "They shouldn't be showing up to feed and bring the animals in for another three hours. Nobody's there during the day. I know—I used to work there part-time as a kid."

"Sounds like a trap."

"Let me talk to Nadean."

"No."

"Look—I assume you probably have guns and stuff. You don't know what I have. You said someone's here watching me. Clearly we can't trust each other, but both of us has something the other one wants."

"We'll kill her quick if anything seems the least bit fishy."

Geoff snipped thread and examined his work. "Please don't hurt her." He nervously licked his lips. "God, it's Christmas." He grabbed the box of foil and pulled the end to discover he didn't have nearly enough. "Uh…make it twenty minutes."

Eight more minutes didn't faze the kidnapper. "Back woods. Known place. Pigs."

"Yes," Geoff said, wishing the phone cord was longer so he could freely roam the kitchen. "Follow the dirt road around, go past the barn and keep heading toward the trees. I'll be all the way in the back at the edge of the woods."

"No tricks."

"No, sir."

"You want to have a Merry Christmas this year."

"Please, sir," he said, allowing his voice to crack with emotion.

"This is your last chance." The caller hung up.

Geoff looked at the insufficient rectangle of aluminum foil he'd pulled free of the cardboard tube it had been wound around and shook his head.


	14. Chapter 14

14

The property wasn't far from the McKenna homestead. Geoff maneuvered the station wagon through twisty back roads, checking his rear-view mirror and watching the first few flakes descend along crazy paths, melting when they touched the ground. He saw the dirt turn-off nearly obscured by overgrown underbrush, oaks and pines. The stink struck a moment later and he questioned the idea of opening a practice that handled livestock. Perhaps he should focus on house pets.

A light shone from a fixture near the peak of the barn roof, and he was startled to see an armed figure step toward him from the side of the structure and braked hard.

The man gestured for him to exit the vehicle. His heart thudded wildly; this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Wherever they'd holed up with Nadean, it had been a lot closer than he'd imagined. He had assumed he would make it to the farm first.

The stranger wore blue jeans, a leather jacket, and a ski mask. "Where is it?"

"Where's my sister?" He inwardly cringed at the quaver he heard in his voice.

The guy waved the gun threateningly and Geoff stood uncertainly with his palms raised to either side of his head. The man approached to jab the muzzle of the weapon against his spine and frisk him. A number of the residents of Kingston hunted or kept firearms on their farms, so he was familiar with quite a few models. From what he'd glimpsed, the thing threatening to gut or paralyze him was high-tech military, and not something he immediately recognized.

"Where is it?"

"Passenger seat," he said, struggling to keep his tone even and calm.

He heard a chuckle. "You gift-wrapped it?"

"The lid comes right up."

He heard a crinkle of paper, then, "Ugh! Thing stinks!"

"I tried to save it."

The box was thrust into his hands. He tried to work the lid back into place, and then wondered why he bothered. It wasn't actually a gift.

"Walk," the guy said.

"Don't you want it?"

"I ain't got your sister. You said back of the property, so walk."

"Okay," he said, nervously wondering if he should walk quickly or if a burst of speed would make the guy suspicious.

The dirt road was hardened and crisscrossed with tire tracks. It wasn't far to the edge of the forest, but every breath and beat of his heart seemed to make the journey nearly exhausting. All he could hear was the crunching of his feet as he traveled. As he cleared the near corner of the pasture that abutted the barn, he realized with a sinking feeling that the pigs had already been put inside for the night, probably in anticipation of snowfall and colder temperatures. He had hoped to find a moment to fling the little corpse to them, knowing they'd make it disappear before anyone could easily identify it.

Each footstep seemed uncannily loud as he trudged over brittle, deeply tire-rutted earth in a section that held water in the spring and summer months whenever it rained. He was halfway to the forest when he finally noticed an unfamiliar vehicle. His chest hurt and he fought to keep his mind clear as fear began to infuse the entire situation with a sickening dreaminess.

He slowed as he approached the turn that would bring him in direct sight of the sedan. His feet felt like they were made of lead. Cold sweat trickled down his spine. He felt ridiculous about how brave he had sounded earlier on the phone, trying to call the shots.

The woods were quiet. Poachers sometimes went back there to hunt off season, kids on bikes rode back there to play with firecrackers and fish in the pond at the very edge of the property, and now and then a local girl lost her virginity beneath the scattered jigsaw puzzle pieces of oak and maple leaves of the forest canopy. Geoff traveled another twenty feet toward the vehicle before halting at the sound of a heavy door swinging open. Another guy in a ski mask emerged, pulling a figure roughly after him.

"How nice. A present. For me?" He had yanked his captive to her feet and positioned her before him. Geoff recognized the jeans and sneakers. "Set it on the ground and back away."

He bent slowly. "How do I-"

"We ain't babysitters," the guy snarled. "Open it so I can see. Back away from it."

It was a sweater box. The lid was attached and opened by folding the top back along a crease in the cardboard. He had wrapped it so it could be opened easily without disturbing the decorative paper. Geoff eased the top back and felt his heart race. The job he'd been almost proud of at home in the kitchen seemed laughable now. The guy would see what he'd tried to do and shoot Nadean, then Geoff. He backed away hesitantly, feeling queasy.

Nadean wore a ski mask backward with silvery grey duct tape covering her eyes to ensure she was utterly blind. For every step the guy took toward him with his gun aimed Geoff's way, Geoff took another step back. Finally he stopped by the box and turned the gun on the girl. Looking down, he cocked his head a few times. Geoff figured if the guy shot his sister, he'd try to flee into the woods. He did not expect to get through this alive.

"Stinks," the guy announced.

"It was frozen. Been thawing."

"How'd it die?"

"Kidney stones."

"How'd you know?"

Nadean must not have talked much. "I'm a veterinary student."

"You cut it up."

He nodded, swallowing.

"Stay put. Guide her to you using your voice."

Brief hope surged within him, but he quickly suppressed it. They remained in danger until they had successfully escaped.

The guy toed the corner of the box as though to reposition it in the dull grey light. "All the parts still there?"

"Yes!" Geoff called a little too excitedly. "I didn't remove anything. Just a…an autopsy." To his sister he said, "Keep moving forward, Nadean. You're almost here. Little steps. Don't trip over the tire ruts."

She was close enough that Geoff could tell she was crying. He wished he was armed. After a few more shuffling steps he grabbed her and pulled her to him, holding her tightly, repositioning himself so that he was the easiest target. The guy stooped slowly to flop the lid down over the box and pick it up. Geoff tried to pull the ski mask off Nadean's head, but the duct tape was wound around it too tightly.

"My hands," she said, trying to turn so he would see that her wrists had been secured with tape also.

"I don't have a knife or anything."

He turned her to guide her back toward the station wagon. The black sedan started up and the guy bore down on them. Geoff spun his sister to the side, and they fell while the car veered around them. He was startled by the sound of an engine starting nearby, and then an AMC Javelin burst from the woods in pursuit of the masked kidnapper. The sedan driver noticed the police markings and floored it around the turn, and a second vehicle emerged from the far corner of the property onto the dirt road behind it. The car slid to a stop, hemmed in when more police vehicles appeared in front of him, blocking his access to the road. He flung the door wide and bolted for an old storage building. A shot was fired and he struck dirt.

Nadean clung to her brother, terrified by the commotion. "What is it? What's happening?"

"The cavalry," he sighed, patting her arm reassuringly. "It's okay. They got 'em."


	15. Chapter 15

15

Nadean was taken to emergency care just to be certain she was okay. Geoff was questioned on site before he was released. He made sure to seek out Shaun Merriman and thank him. Shaun laughed when Geoff admitted that the animal corpse was one of Aurora Fontaine's show chickens doctored up to look like a little dinosaur.

"Up close you can see it's fake," he told Geoff.

"I was hoping they wouldn't examine it too closely."

"Was the original animal all black like that?"

Ayam Cemanis were unique in that they not only possessed all black feathers, but also black beaks and black skin. Geoff left a few long tail feathers when he'd plucked it, using white glue and a paint brush from Nadean's art supplies to mimic skin texture. A few stitches to bind the feathers together helped give it the appearance of a long, stiff tail. The toes from the second bird had helped him create a set of hand-like claws for it, a razor had removed the comb, and he'd reshaped the beak with a file, stitching it shut so that the lack of teeth wasn't immediately noticeable. "It was kind of a sooty charcoal color with light silvery grey along its sides and some brown on the thighs, but it darkened around the orifices to a soft black after it died."

"What did you color it with?"

"Little white pepper and some cinnamon," he admitted.

"Be ready for the pot if it didn't stink so bad."

Geoff nodded, grinning, still having trouble believing he had pulled the switch off.

Both suspects were apprehended and their vehicle impounded. Geoff had borrowed a knife to free his sister from her bonds.

"Y'know, your buddy bonded out," Officer Merriman told him.

"He's a flight risk."

"I figured, but you can't always convince a judge of that. Any idea where he'll go?"

"Sorry," said Geoff, "I have no idea."

"Idiots," the young policeman said, shaking his head. "All this over some stupid lizard someone's trying to pass off as a dinosaur."

"Yeah," McKenna chuckled lightly. "They could've just used a plucked chicken."

He later drove to the hospital to pick up Nadean. She had been questioned while there and handed a card in case she had any further need of the police. They told her she'd likely be asked to testify, but to rest up in the meantime. She accepted a Valium when it was offered and asked for a snack. Geoff took her to White Castle and bought her a paper sack of little burgers and a soda. She was wound up enough to remain alert on the ride home, but the sedative had clearly slowed her reflexes.

"The police were already there the entire time?"

"When I told Shaun what was happening, we came up with a plan. All I had to do was convince them to meet me at the pig farm, but I had no idea they would get there first."

"What if they had refused?"

"Then I was supposed to call Shaun back and tell him the new location. It would ideally be someplace where they could conceal themselves, someplace with no people around, and a place where it would be easy to trap anyone in a vehicle on the property."

"Brit's gone?"

"Yeah," Geoff told her. "Probably won't be back, either."

"I'm glad you called the cops on him. Scumbag."

"Wrecked my Jeep."

"Oh, no," she said through a yawn. "Totaled?"

"I think I can get it fixed."

"I'm sorry."

He said, "No one needs to know about this, right?"

She said, "Friend of yours came by the house, stole your car. Got in an accident."

"We don't want Mom to know."

"Go with me to court," she said, wiping at her watery eyes. "Do I need a lawyer?"

"No," he told her. "I have a feeling this will all be hushed up before it gets that far anyway."

"Okay," she said, nestling back against the seat. "Thank you, Geoff."

"You're my sister," he replied.

The kitchen was a mess, but he walked her past it to the stairs, hitting the lights as they went. He helped her upstairs, and then waited for her when she insisted on visiting the restroom. When she finally emerged he helped her to her room and pulled the door closed so she wouldn't hear him cleaning up downstairs.

"Geoff?" He snapped his head upward as he cleared the last step and saw a man seated in the living room, casually staring his way, enjoying an oversized soft pretzel from the bag Mrs. Merriman had given him. Freezing in place, his heart raced while he considered the objects nearest him that could be used as a weapon if necessary. "I heard you performed a necropsy."

Eyes narrowing, he relaxed his stance, cold with perspiration as his eyes sought familiarity in the other man's features. "What do you want?" He kept his tone soft so as not to disturb Nadean.

"Our mutual acquaintance was supposed to deliver a package to us."

The accent was Australian. McKenna had last seen the same guy at an airport in Montana when he'd traded him a yellow leather rucksack containing a fossilized _uniceras_ horn for an identical bag full of banded bricks of bills. "It's gone," he said, allowing himself to relax a tad further. He'd never learned the man's name, but he didn't think he posed a threat of any kind.

"But, you took samples, didn't you?" The large, athletically built man leaned forward in the chair and popped the last bit of pretzel into his mouth.

He hadn't mentioned that to Brit or anyone else. "So, it's real, then? A genuine, resurrected dinosaur?"

"It was. Our intelligence tells us there are more…and still more to come."

"But, how were they completing the gene sequence if-"

Spreading his hands and shaking his head, the man said, "My talent is acquisitions, Mr. McKenna, not science."

"Then what makes you think I kept samples?"

"The same reason you nearly absconded with part of a rare, extinct animal fossil. You have a curious mind."

Geoff eyed him skeptically. "Do you know what a mistake this is? To try and recreate animals that haven't been seen in millions of years?"

The visitor stood and casually smoothed his pant legs down. "Not my concern. How much do you want for the samples, Geoff?"

"I don't want anything," he mumbled, then, "Brit wrecked my Jeep."

"So buy a new one."

"You bailed him out, didn't you?"

"We'll make certain he pays us back for that. I suppose you froze the samples?"

Calm and steady as he was, clean-cut and friendly enough, Geoff still didn't trust the man at all. He nodded begrudgingly and left him, heading through the kitchen toward the garage. He paused at the back door. The man finally emerged from the living room and took a leisurely gaze at the kitchen table. "Christmas dinner?"

McKenna ignored him. He led the man into the garage, hit the lights, and then pried the lid up on the chest freezer. Reaching within, he plucked out a parcel tied in waxed paper with his name printed neatly on it in black ink. "What are you going to do with them?"

"I just do as I'm told," the man answered. "Just parchment paper?"

"Test tubes with stoppers," he answered.

"Could I trouble you for some ice?"

Geoff led him back into the house and filled a Tupperware container with ice from the freezer, nestling the package within. "Anything else?"

"Merry Christmas," the man told him with a smile, then headed out the back door.

Geoff waited a moment before locking it behind him. He heard a motor growl to life, and then a motorcycle sped from behind the garage, the rider's silhouette made bulky by a backpack.

"Please say it's over," Geoff whispered with his forehead against the backdoor windowpane. He found a Coke in the refrigerator and drank from the bottle. In his haste he had crammed the remains of the spare chicken onto a shelf beside a head of lettuce. He looked at the kitchen table and sighed heavily, then moved to the radio and tuned in some rock 'n roll, leaving the volume low while he cleaned, discarded items, and put things away.

He considered the idea of an island populated with cloned dinosaurs. They'd have to ship in tons of fresh meat for the carnivores—especially if they succeeded in creating anything of size. A tyrannosaur seemed unlikely since the animal was known from only a couple of incomplete fossils. Would they find a means to keep the animals separate or just let them roam free? Flying and aquatic dinosaurs would be out of the question to avoid any getting loose in a populated area. They would require a handful of specialized veterinarians…who would be shooting in the dark with most of their attempts at diagnosis. If the creatures bred, would they sell off the young? He cringed, worrying which idiots might buy them. There was no way they could advertise the beasts as authentic unless completed DNA strands were pulled. What would the lifespans be? An animal the size of an Apatosaurus or Albertosaurus likely took decades to achieve adult size. Would the island be open to visitors, or would they only allow a select few to document the results and share them with the world?

What plants would the herbivores eat? Would insectivores find anything suitable for them at all? How would they know when the animal's natural lifespan was ending? How could they tranquilize or hold one for veterinary care? Were they being grown inside test tubes or injected into host animals for incubation? McKenna had always wondered if the world reeked of ammonia-rich dung back then when the fresh piles of some species must have been massive. What beneficial gut fauna or other sorts of mites and such were beneficial to dinosaur survival? Was there anything that existed today that could wipe them out easily? Besides poor diet. How long had Sterling been on the run with the little animal, feeding it hot dogs? Could it process drinking water enhanced with chlorine or fluoride? Had it required unfiltered sunlight like many reptiles of today? What sort of temperatures were they best suited for? Humidity? Would they even be able to adapt to long periods of breathing modern, polluted air?

He grew drowsy as he worked, surprised by how quickly his energy flagged, no doubt sapped by the day's activities. Eyelids drooping, head lolling, he finally turned off the radio and hit the lights to shuffle through the living room on his way to the stairs. He hesitated before ascending, taking a last look at the room, half expecting to see someone else had paid them a visit unexpectedly. He found himself staring at the chair the Aussie had occupied until his weary brain finally identified the anomaly before him as a paper shopping bag.

It was small and plain with a twisted paper handle like something used to carry something one had purchased from a boutique. Closing his eyes and exhaling audibly, he trudged over to it and stared at it for a moment before lifting it and holding the handles apart so he could see what was inside.

"Aw, fer cryin' out loud!" he groaned, groping through the banded bills and discovering they were in large denominations. He carried the bag toward the stairs and ascended, grumbling, "Ho, ho, ho."


End file.
